


Flames to Match Her Rage

by Melisandre_deWinter



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A Song of Ice and Fire References, Alternate Universe - A Song of Ice and Fire Fusion, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst and Tragedy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ashara Dayne Lives, BAMF Lyanna Stark, BAMF Women, Badass, Badass Cersei Lannister, Brothels, Canon Divergence - Robert's Rebellion, Canon Divergence - Tourney at Harrenhal, Crime Fighting, Crossdressing, Cunnilingus, Daenerys Targaryen Deserves Better, Daenerys Targaryen Lives, Dark Magic, Dildos, Doomed Relationship, Escape, F/F, Female Friendship, Female Protagonist, Female-Centric, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gay Pride, Gen, Gender Disguise, Gender Identity, Gender Issues, Gender Related, Gender Roles, Genderbending, Girl Power, Hair Braiding, Hair Kink, Harrenhal, Inspired by A Song of Ice and Fire, Killing, Knights - Freeform, Knives, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Female Character, LGBTQ Themes, Lesbian Cersei Lannister, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Daenerys Targaryen, Lesbian Sex, Long Hair, Lyanna Stark is the Knight of the Laughing Tree, Magic, Minor Robert Baratheon/Cersei Lannister, Misandry, Mischief, Non-Canon Relationship, Non-Graphic Violence, On the Run, Oral Sex, POV Cersei Lannister, POV Female Character, POV Lesbian Character, POV Melisandre of Asshai, POV Queer Character, Pre - Robert's Rebellion, Pride, Queen Cersei Lannister, Queen Daenerys Targaryen, Queer Character, Queer Culture, Queer Friendly, Queer Themes, Revenge, Rhaegar Targaryen Being an Asshole, Robert's Rebellion, Robin Hood References, Romantic Friendship, Secret Identity, Secret Relationship, Sex, Sex Magic, Sex Work, Star-crossed, Strap-Ons, Strong Female Characters, Swordfighting, Swords & Sorcery, The House with the Red Door, Tourney at Harrenhal, Tragic Romance, Trichophilia, Vaginal Fingering, Witchcraft, With A Twist, Young Cersei Lannister, Young Love, crossdressing cersei lannister
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:28:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24779161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melisandre_deWinter/pseuds/Melisandre_deWinter
Summary: A Song of Ice and Fire/Game Of Thrones alternate universe canon-divergence. After the kidnapping and death of her lover Lyanna Stark, Cersei Lannister avenges Lyanna's death by leading a Sisterhood Without Banners against male violence and seeking to kill the remaining Targaryens...until an unexpected romance with red priestess Melisandre changes her course of vengeance"For herself, she wanted sleet and ice, howling winds, thunder to shake the very stones of the Red Keep. She wanted a storm to match her rage." —Cersei, A Feast For Crows
Relationships: Ashara Dayne/Cersei Lannister, Ashara Dayne/Elia Martell, Cersei Lannister & Jaime Lannister, Cersei Lannister/Lyanna Stark, Cersei Lannister/Original Female Character(s), Melisandre of Asshai/Cersei Lannister, Sansa Stark/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 26
Kudos: 47





	1. "I'm gonna marry the night, I won't give up on my life"

**Author's Note:**

> * This is an AU canon-divergence fic. In this alternate universe, Jaime and Cersei were never lovers, but best friends. Cersei attends the Tourney of Harrenhal, and the Reeds' involvement with the Knight of The Laughing Tree doesn't happen, "he" is just there to show off "his" fighting and not to avenge the Reeds. Robert's Rebellion proceeds after Lyanna's kidnapping as it does in canon up until Cersei and Robert's wedding, but basically nothing that happens after Cersei and Robert's wedding in asoiaf happens. Lyanna dies during a miscarriage, and does not have a child.  
> *for my own convenience as a writer I am pretending everyone in Westeros and Essos speaks one language

For as long as Cersei could remember, everyone had said she’d been born to be a queen. Now that she was Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, it was the last thing she wanted.

As a child she’d been betrothed to Prince Rhaegar, and did not take this honor for granted. “I’ll be the next great Dragon,” she’d boasted to Jaime as they played at fighting with wooden swords. He knocked her to the ground. “A dragon doesn’t stumble,” Jaime laughed, as Cersei arose and wiped dirt from the ground off the breeches he’d lent her to practice in. As he laughed, she leapt up and pointed her wooden sword at his neck, right at the point of his jugular vein. Taking a few steps forward, she’d forced him to walk backwards until her sword had his back pressed against the wall of the stables. “I’ll be a greater warrior queen than Visenya, you will see. They’ll all see.” She’d even dreamt of riding a dragon like Visenya had, drawing images of herself and Rhaegar atop one, high above the world, instead of paying attention to her lessons. 

When she closed her eyes before going to bed each night, she thought of Rheagar and what it would be like to kiss him, what it would be like to run her hand down his face and onto his chest, his soft lips kissing her neck as she touched his breasts...for some reason, Rheagar always had breasts when Cersei dreamt of him, and a woman’s parts where his cock should be. In dreams, one of her hands would grab long silver hair, and the other would slip inside her...his…and as she pushed Rhaegar’s face into hers to kiss his lips, his already-delicate face turned into a woman’s face...

Cersei always woke up at that part of the dream, heart racing and breath panting from either fear or ecstasy—it was difficult to know which.

Now she lived in a nightmare, but it would be over soon. The King who slept in her bed was not Rhaegar but Robert Baratheon, snoring loudly as drool trickled from his mouth to his chin. The potion Jaime had slipped into Robert’s drink during the wedding feast had worked magnificently; he had not even made it to the end of the bedding ceremony before falling into a deep slumber.  _ Thank the Gods _ , Cersei thought. She knew she did not have much time left; Jaime was waiting at the bottom of the rope hanging from the window, and he had always been impatient. She drew the dagger from inside her sleeve and carefully traced a thin line along the outside of her thigh, blood from the cut dripping onto her pillow. She winced for a moment, but she was a lioness of the rock, and lions had no fear.  _ Let them think I’ve been kidnapped, the way Lyanna was. Robert will be known for being unable to keep a woman _ , she’d said to Jaime as they’d plotted her escape.  _ Lyanna… _ she couldn’t think about that right now, only about her escape...and her revenge.

The slim circle of blood on the pillow looked too dainty.  _ They might think it is the blood from losing my maidenhood, not from a kidnapping _ . She frowned.  _ How can I make this look more like a capture? _ , she thought, the tip of her fingers running along the edge of the blade. The wind from the open window blew a stray curl that had fallen out of her braid across her face, and she knew what she must do. Her hand did not tremble with any fear or hesitation as she pulled her braid tightly to the side of her head. She brought the dagger in her right hand down upon the point where the braid began to form, and began to saw through it. Her hair was so thick that she needed to grasp the blade tightly to hack through it, the noise of its sharp edge meeting thick waves crunching. After dutifully sawing away at her braid, it lay limp and heavy upon her breast, disconnected from the rest of her hair, which fell in short waves about her chin.  _ How odd _ , she thought, as she felt the wind on her bare neck for the first time in her life, and she laid the braid on the pillow next to Robert’s.  _ That’s all he’ll ever have of me. Never my maidenhood. A horse’s saddle claimed that long ago. _

She walked up to the mirror, under which Jaime had hidden the clothes she’d wear for her escape during his regular Kingsguard bedroom duty. Cersei unlaced the bodice of her white wedding gown and shook it off, replacing it with loose breeches and a white shirt, with mail underneath that pressed her breasts closely to her chest. Cersei looked in the mirror.  _ Too pretty, still _ , she thought.  _ I’ll never pass as a boy. _ Gripping the dagger again, she lifted the chunk of blonde waves that fell over her eyes and hacked it off, almost drawing blood from her scalp as the blade grazed it. She winced and her whole body shuddered, but no,  _ I will not cry. I am a lioness, and hair grows back. _ , she told herself as she grabbed the section behind her head and hacked it off close to the scalp. As she repeated this with the rest of her hair, drifts of blonde waves fell upon the floor, shining brightly where the moonlight hit it.  _ Lyanna once called it my golden crown _ , she remembered,  _ I’m giving up both my crowns...for her _ . 

When the task was done, Cersei stared at the stranger in the mirror with disbelief, seeing a pretty boy with hair cut close to the scalp, green eyes flashing with mischief. She stretched her head to the left, then to the right, getting used to how light her head felt. Perhaps she was better off without both crowns, a thought at which her child self dreaming of being queen would have raised an eyebrow with disdain. But she could no longer linger. Sweeping the hair on the boudoir onto the floor with her hand, she ran to the window and grasped the rope that Jaime had hung outside it. The sky was as black as the hole where her heart once was that only rage, not tears, could fill. Peering into darkness, the words _hour of the wolf_ ran through her head, and the wolf girl’s laughing grey eyes, filled with joy right after she and Cersei had first kissed, flashed in her memory. As she grabbed the rope and climbed down it, she felt no fear, only lust. For the night, the darkness. For vengeance. For _Lyanna. I will avenge you better than that Baratheon beast ever could._


	2. The Lion and the Wolf

Cersei Lannister was gone, discarded on her wedding night with the abandoned braid lying on Robert Baratheon’s pillowcase. She could no longer be Cersei in name if she was to evade her father’s search. But the woman who was no longer Cersei Lannister still dreamt of Harrenhal and woke up crying. Lyanna was just in her reach, and then sleep escaped her...

Lord Tywin himself refused to go to the Tourney of Harrenhal, out of spite after feeling insulted by the Targaryens. But it was important Cersei attend, he insisted, so that she could be on display for the noblemen there, and—he did not say this, but she knew it was intended—to show Rhaegar the glittering gold he had missed out on. Tywin was contemplating brokering a match with Brandon Stark, she knew, and she shivered when thinking of being trapped in the frigid north. Oberyn Martell was another she’d heard murmurs of a match with; his blood at least ran hotter than those of the wolves, but he’d been known to spread his seed across most of Westeros. Besides, it was the girl who enchanted Cersei. The wolf girl.

Cersei first spotted her during the feast, after Prince Rhaegar had sung his sad, beautiful song for all in attendance. Ladies wept at his voice and his beauty, but not Cersei. She had only hatred in her heart for him after his family had dared reject her as a match.  _ They might not see me fit to be queen, but they are wrong. I will show them. I will outshine them all. Especially his simpering wife.  _ Suddenly, she heard a shout from the other end of the hall, followed by a burst of laughter. The girl beside Brandon Stark, who must be his sister Lyanna, held a glass of wine and poured it over his head, provoking peals of laughter from the men round them. Her cheeks were damp with tears like that of the other ladies besotted by Prince Rheagar, but her eyes were full of fire. Many said Cersei’s green eyes looked like wildfire, and she could easily spot the same spark of defiance in others' eyes too, even though the Stark girl’s were grey and not green. Lyanna stormed out of the hall, her dark hair trailing behind her. Cersei stood up, prepared to leave. 

“What are you rising for?” Jaime asked. She was pleased to be able to see him, as their time together since he joined the Kingsguard and left her at Casterly Rock had become so sparse. But he should not be one to judge her, or anyone, for hasty flight. After his time with the Tullys, he had fled his destiny as Lord of Casterly Rock to join the Kingsguard. His own green eyes also glimmered like wildfire when he spoke of sitting alongside Brynden Tully at Riverrun, and it came to no surprise to Cersei when he turned his back on both his home and the need to take a wife soon afterwards, to their father’s endless consternation. They were true twins, and shared everything in common—including preference for those of their own sex. 

Cersei dismissed her twin, and followed the wolf girl as she ran outside, into the clear night lit by a sky full of stars. Lyanna turned around and stared at her.”What are  _ you _ doing here?” she asked disdainfully. “You should have thrown the wine down your brother’s breeches, not onto his head,” Cersei replied, placing one hand on her hip and tossing her hair with the other. Lyanna smirked.”You left the banquet to say that?” Cersei stepped towards her. “My father might intend to wed me to your brother. I ought to know the North a bit better, if that is the case.” “Then talk to him,” Lyanna said, and turned around, beginning to walk away. “He doesn’t interest me,” Cersei shouted behind her, and Lyanna turned around, a quizzical look on her face. Cersei took another step towards her. “Your cheek is still damp with tears from Prince Rhaegar’s song. But he is not worth your tears, nor his mad father.” Lyanna laughed. “You think I was crying over the Prince like the other lackwits there? I’m betrothed to Robert Baratheon. There’s no other man on my mind.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Cersei said, moving closer still to Lyanna, “when you were looking at my table for the entire feast. Jaime is beautiful, but he is a member of the Kingsguard. He took an oath to never wed. So I must caution against longing for what you cannot have. Robert seems to be a fierce warrior…”

“...with a bastard in every kingdom.” Lyanna cut in, and sighed. “Yes, always on my mind, and the thought of him torments me. That’s what made me cry; the words in the Prince’s song made me think of a love I can never have with any man. If only I could be a Knight like your brother, and not have to wed. Anyone at Winterfell could tell you I am a better swordsman than half the soldiers here, and surely fiercer atop a horse.” She stepped closer to Cersei, and brought her finger to Cersei’s cheek to stroke it. “Jaime is beautiful indeed, but it wasn’t Jaime’s beauty that captured my eye.” Cersei grasped Lyanna’s waist,and at the same time they moved in to kiss one another, Lyanna’s mouth opening and Cersei’s tongue moving inside, teasing and receiving. Cersei grasped the back of Lyanna’s thick brown hair and pulled it as hard as she possibly could, wondering if she could make the wolf girl howl. Instead, she grabbed the back of Cersei’s hair just as tightly as they continued to kiss. 

Suddenly, Cersei heard footsteps, and the two girls drew back from one another. It was the sound of a few Lannister bannermen, come to check on their Lady and finding her close to the Stark girl. “You all can leave. Lyanna and I were just about to return to the banquet,” she told them. “Your father instructed us to keep you under our watch at all times,” one said. Cersei rolled her eyes. “I will join you in a moment.” Turning to Lyanna she whispered in her ear, “where shall we meet tomorrow? At the tourney?” “You’ll see me there, but not in the crowd. I’ll be fighting in it.” Lyanna winked. “Don’t be silly,” Cersei insisted, “we aren’t allowed to fight in tourneys.” Lyanna cupped Cersei’s ear in her hand. “Watch me,” she whispered, and ran off, back into the great hall, where they held one anothers’ gazes for the rest of the feast.

The next morning, Cersei awoke with her cheeks flushed from her dreams of Lyanna’s lips kissing them. She stirred slowly getting out of bed, and then let her handmaiden dress her, wishing Lyanna’s fingers were touching her instead.  _ Will she wear blue today? Blue would bring out the color of her eyes _ , she wondered, as she, Jaime, and the Lannister retinue arrived at the first day of the Tourney. Cersei craned her neck over the rest of the crowd to spot Lyanna, but only saw her dour-looking, long-faced brothers. “Have you seen the Stark girl?” she asked Jaime. “No, why?” he replied. Cersei huffed. “What’s it to you? I can have thoughts of my own” Jaime smirked. “Very well,” he said, as the trumpets that heralded the tourney’s start rang out. Cersei hardly paid any attention; watching others joust bored her when she would rather be jousting herself. She’d had plenty of experience; from her earliest years until Jaime abandoned her and Casterly Rock, she frequently dressed in his clothing, then his armor for more to hide under once her figure developed, and took his place in his fighting lessons.  _ I’m more skilled with a sword than any of these pimpled boys _ , she thought to herself.  _ More skilled with a sword than any of them likely are with the useless piece of flesh between their legs _ . She remembered the day when, fully armored, she faced Lord Tywin himself in a joust at Casterly Rock, her father believing she was Jaime the whole time. She’d felt no greater joy in her whole life than the look on his face when she unhorsed him; he may have felt proud of his son for his fierceness in that moment, but his daughter was his true heir and the true Lannister warrior.

The blaring of trumpets took Cersei out of her thoughts; the next round was about to begin. Still, Lyanna was not in sight. But her attention was diverted quickly enough by the spectacle of the next knight taking the floor. He was of small stature, with armor made up of mismatched bits and pieces that appeared ill-fitting on him, and a shield emblazoned with the image of a white weirwood with a laughing red face. “Who is this novice?” she asked Jaime. “I’m not sure,” he replied. I don’t recognize the sigil. Must be from some minor northern house.” “Too minor to even be able to dress himself,” she sneered. If she’d the chance to joust, she would look immaculate and not as though she’d taken a different piece of armor from each kingdom.  _ Men are fools, to take the chances they’re given for granted. To treat as a joke what I view as a dream.  _ The crowd laughed at the small knight, who had to face off against three opponents.  _ Finally some amusement _ , Cersei thought. She loved to watch her inferiors put in their place. Especially since this novice was squaring off against Robert Baratheon, the mighty stag glorious in his shining armor. 

Robert charged towards the little knight immediately, and the crowd cheered, Cersei joining.  _ What a fine mess this will be! _ , she thought, clapping. But then, the knight with the weirwood sigil made Robert take an unexpected swerve, and he almost fell off his horse. The crowd collectively held its breath and Robert regained composure, and charged towards his opponent again, who again defied expectations by completely unseating Robert, who fell to the ground on his arse. The crowd burst into laughter to see the stag fallen so low, and the small knight rode closer and closer to the crowd, eventually approaching Cersei. “To my queen of love and beauty,” he said in a muffled voice, and threw a crown of red roses onto her lap. Cersei gasped, and when she looked up at the knight, she saw laughing grey eyes through his helm.  _ Her helm _ . For they were Lyanna’s eyes.  _ Find me tonight _ , those eyes said. And she would. 

At the feast following the tourney, everyone chattered over the mysterious figure they called The Knight of the Laughing Tree, and Cersei smirked to herself as everyone speculated over who he might be, locking eyes with Lyanna from across the room. She’d kept her crown of red roses on her head ever since it had been flung at her, the red matching her golden hair to create the Lannister red and gold house colors. Lyanna beckoned to Cersei with a finger, and Cersei turned to her brother. “I’m going to retire for the night. The wine has made me drowsy. Goodnight, brother.” “Goodnight, sweet sister,” he said, kissing her on the cheek.

Lyanna was running, but paused when she saw Cersei coming forward. Cersei grabbed Lyanna’s hand. “To your chambers or mine?” she asked. Lyanna scrunched her nose. “I have two nosy brothers. You have a host of handmaidens. I would say…” “To the forest,” Cersei replied, and Lyanna nodded. Holding hands, they ran into the forest, skirts trailing behind them.

Finally, they were amongst the trees, clasping hands and looking up at the starry night. “Thank you for my crown,” Cersei said. “I did always want to be queen. Shall we rest more comfortably?” She shrugged off her cloak and laid it on the floor, then unlaced her bodice. As Cersei faced Lyanna and pulled down the top of her dress. Lyanna traced the space in between Cersei’s breasts with her finger, her eyes widening. “Have you done this before?” Cersei asked, now fully naked except for her crown of red roses. “No,” Lyanna replied, “but keep the crown on. I like you in the crown.” She pulled Cersei’s face towards hers and they sunk down onto the blanket Cersei’s cloak had created, Cersei unlacing the back of Lyanna’s dress as they kissed. Lyanna moaned when their breasts pressed up against one anothers, even louder so when Cersei slid her fingers into Lyanna from below. Cersei flipped Lyanna underneath her to make it easier to enter her, and to bring her mouth down to where her fingers were. The night was dark, but the moonlight allowed Cersei to look at the dark hair that curled around the spot her own fingers entered, as she drew her mouth to it and circled Lyann’s clit in a figure-eight pattern. As Cersei progressed, Lyanna grabbed her blonde hair tight, so tight Cersei was almost in too much pain to continue. But Lyanna tasted too good to stop. She could have kept going, her tongue moving deeper and deeper inside, forever, but eventually Lyanna’s body heaved so heavily that it collapsed, and she lay panting on the cloak. “Cersei…” she gasped, and Cersei moved her head up to kiss Lyanna, who then flipped Cersei around to exchange the gift Cersei had given her.

When they were finished, they lay alongside each other on the cloak, looking up at the stars and holding hands. “Promise me,” Lyanna said. “Promise me, Cersei, to find a way to be with me. You can marry my brother and then we can see one another. Something. I will find a way to hold onto you.” “I promise, Lyanna,” Cersei said, nuzzling her neck as Lyanna stroked Cersei’s long hair from the roots all the way to its ends at the small of her back. “But you failed me at something.” Lyanna looked at Cersei quizzically. “It’s a full moon, wolf girl. Don’t wolves howl? I wanted to make you howl.” A grin broke across Lyanna’s face, and she laughed. “Only if I can make a lion howl instead of roar, with me. On the count of three. One...two...three….ah-ooooo!” They laughed as hey howled together, Cersei giggling as her face pressed into Lyanna’s bare breast, then settling there. “I suppose it’s time to go back,” Cersei said. “I suppose, “Lyanna sighed, and sat up, dressing Cersei herself and placing the crown of red roses back atop her head, sweeping Cersei’s masses of wavy golden hair aside to kiss, then bite, her neck. “Prince Rheagar fights tomorrow,” Cersei mused, “as a child that would have been my greatest joy to watch. But I’ll only have my eyes on you.” “My eyes could have never been interested in him with you around,” Lyanna relied, with a smile. “I couldn’t care less about the stupid prince. Your golden crown,” she pulled playfully on Cersei’s hair, “outshines any prince’s crown. And I’m sure I could unhorse him.” "As could I. We should wear the armor, and our brothers the gowns,” Cersei said, and they kissed again. 

But the next day was the day all the smiles died. The day Prince Rhaeghar fought and crowned Lyanna his Queen of Love and Beauty instead of his wife, the Princess Elia. He was not supposed to do that, and Cersei noticed Lyanna’s eyes were wide with terror when he placed the crown of blue roses upon her lap. Years later, some would say her eyes were filled with excitement, but Cersei knew she felt no passion for the prince. The prince who took her by surprise at the Tourney, and then took her away from her home and her family, away from her future, away from Cersei. At the end of the war her kidnapping sparked, Lyanna now lay in the crypts of Winterfell, with Cersei in Lyanna’s intended place as Robert Baratheon’s bride. But not for long. She had promised Lyanna to be with her, and if she could not be with her, she would avenge her.

_ The dragon has three heads _ , some said. As Cersei shivered on a boat heading from King’s Landing to the East after escaping her wedding night, she gained warmth when her blood boiled with vengeance.  _ The dragon took Lyanna. He did not slay her himself, but she is dead because of him. But its other two heads are still intact...for now. I will kill them, and no more Targaryens will live to cast down all I hold dear. _


	3. "Must We Live For the Dead?"

Cersei woke up with a start, panting heavily, tears on her face. This always happened when she dreamt of Lyanna, and of Harrenhal. But she must not let any sadness show, the sadness she still felt over ten years after she’d left King’s Landing. The Sisterhood did not cry, they acted. They fought.

Cersei looked to her right, almost expecting to see Lyanna’s laughing grey eyes. Instead she saw violet eyes looking back. “I know what you dreamt about,” Ashara said. “You’re always a bit frantic when you dream about her.” She threw the sheet down, exposing her large breasts, dark hair falling onto the white sheets, and rubbed Cersei’s back. “But it’s good to remember her. It’s important to remember why we’re here halfway across the world. Why we fight.”

Cersei would never forget the shock Ashara gave her that one night on her voyage east so many years ago. As the ship crossed the Narrow Sea, it also moved southwards, through the Sea of Dorne. “This isn’t far enough,” Cersei had told the captain. “I need to go where the Targaryen children are.” “And we need to pick up every passenger who needs us,” a high voice said from behind her. It was the Ironborn girl, Laurel, the captain’s daughter who was his right-hand man. Or woman. Whatever she was... although Cersei looked even more like a boy than Laurel did with her newly-shorn hair, breeches, boots, leather vest, and dagger strapped to her belt. Cersei could not understand how any man could raise his daughter not to be a lady...but she also envied Laurel this upbringing. As the ship stopped, the captain let a passenger on.  _ A woman _ . Her dress’ color blended in too much with the dark sky to be intelligible, but her violet eyes shone in the night.  _ Ashara Dayne? _ Before she could even wonder what Ashara was doing here, Cersei quickly ran back to her cabin. Ashara would recognize her from Harrenhal, where she had been present as Princess Elia’s lady-in-waiting. Her brother Arthur, the Sword of The Morning, had been slain in Rhaeghar’s service at the Tower of Joy, slain by Lyanna’s brother Ned, no less. A friend of the Targaryens was a potentially dangerous foe for the surviving Targaryens’ would-be assassin. 

Cersei slept fitfully, the rocking waves and thoughts of Ashara being so close making sleep difficult to come by. When dawn broke, she put on her clothes and walked up to the front of the ship’s deck. As saltwater sprayed on her face, she lifted it up and threw her arms out, wind rushing behind her. She was about to smile, when she heard a voice. 

“Ship boy! Do you know for how long we’ll be stopping in Tyrosh before we reach Volantis?”

Cersei turned around to see Ashara a few feet behind her. Ashara squinted. “You look familiar. The Lannister eyes and golden hair. What would a Lannister cousin be doing on a boat headed East?” Cersei sighed, and walked towards Ashara. “You’d likely find out at some point, anyway” she replied, and unbuttoned her loose white shirt to show Ashara her naked breast. Ashara’s already-huge eyes widened, and then she laughed. “Why, it’s our very own queen of the seven kingdoms, disguised as a boy.” Cersei realized her breast still hung out of her shirt, and quickly concealed it again. “No need for that,” Ashara reassured her, placing a delicate pale hand on Cersei’s shoulder. “Your secret is safe with me. No need to tell me what in the seven hells you are doing. The less I know of Westeros from now on, the better. I’m dead there.” She walked past Cersei, up to the edge of the desk, and grasped the railing, her dark cloak and hair billowing out behind her. 

“Dead in Westeros?” Cersei asked. Ashara turned around with a sad smile on her face. “The war may be over, but there will be another. There’s always another. And I want no part in whatever is to come there. My time there is done. My brother is dead. My lover is dead…”

“Ned Stark? He wed the Tully girl,” Cersei replied. Everyone had seen him dance with Ashara at the Tourney of Harrenhal, and this grabbed so much attention that it made Lyanna and Cersei’s affair easier to hide. Ashara smiled sadly to herself and shook her head. “He’s a sweet boy. But not...to my taste. I prefer...shall we say, Dornish gold to Northern mead.” Cersei walked closer to Ashara. “Oberyn is an attractive man, but full of life as ever” Ashara laughed. “They say the Lannisters are clever, but perhaps less than they say they are. Best of luck to you, wherever you may be going.”

“Tyrosh,” Cersei blurted out. “I’m going to kill the Targaryens. I know your family loved them well, but if you are no longer tied to Westeros, you shan’t care”

Ashara clasped her hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. “What good will it do to you, to anyone, to kill two small children? The gods know enough children have been slain in the name of this war. Aegon and Rhaenys, at your father’s command. It wasn’t enough for him to kill the woman I loved, no...he had to slay her children as well.” She shook her head, and Cersei suddenly remembered how closely Elia and Ashara always stuck together during the Tourney at Harrenhal.  _ Dornish gold.  _ “What are those Targaryen children to you, or makes them yours to harm? You should have stayed with Robert if that’s what you want—no one wants them dead more than our new king.” 

Cersei approached her, hand on her dagger in case she needed it. “You enjoyed Dornish gold. I had a taste for Northern mead. So did Rhaeghar Targaryen. I promised I would be with her, always, but he took her from me. He might have been slain, but the dragon has three heads, and all three must be lopped off before any justice is served.” 

“Must we live for the dead?” Ashara sighed. “If we cannot protect the ones we love, we can avenge them. And I mean to avenge Arthur and Elia by  _ living _ , not through foolishness that would get me killed.” Cersei felt rage boil inside her when Ashara labeled her mission as foolish. “I hate Rhaeghar as much as you do, for what he did to Elia. Had he never abandoned her for the Stark girl, I would still be with her as her handmaiden, and she would still be alive. But surely murdering his kin won’t bring her back, nor Arthur. Whom, you musn’t forget, died protecting Lyanna at the Tower of Joy as she sat in the blood of her miscarriage. Died to protect her, not just for Rhaeghar.” Ashara walked away from the railing; as both girls noticed they stood almost too closely, their chests almost touching. “Why Volantis?” Cersei shouted after her. Ashara turned to face her. “Volantis is known as the first daughter. As am I. And my family had friends there from when we traveled there in my girlhood. They have a manse ready for me. Quite an empty one, should you care to abandon your plot and join me.” She swept around and retreated back to her cabin, leaving Cersei standing still, deep in thought until the evening fell.

As the moon rose, so did Laurel, who bounded up from the ship’s rudder. “We’re here—look!” Lights glimmered that were more than stars; they were the lights of torches, of buildings,  _ of Tyrosh _ . The captain joined his daughter and clapped his hand on her shoulder. “We’re going to stay in the port for the night to get some rest after these many days of travel,” he told Cersei. Will you still be departing us here?” Cersei noticed Ashara ascend from her cabin, and the two lost girls locked eyes as Cersei passed her to take the sack filled with her belongings. The time to strike was now, but first she must discover where exactly in Tyrosh the dragon children had been spotted. And where did more gossip fly from tongues loosened by drink than in brothels? Besides, Cersei had not lay with anyone since Lyanna, and disguised as a man...she could use the release a woman’s body would bring her. To gather strength before moving forward, or so she told herself. But really, she just needed to touch someone in case it might be the last time...

Grabbing her sack, Cersei flung herself from the ship’s deck to the boardwalk, where even in the darkness the Tyroshi’s dyed beards burst with color. Flinging her sack over her shoulder, Cersei swaggered into the city, ready for one last night of pleasure before her revenge. Little could she know that tonight would in fact be the start of a new mission, that she would be seeing Ashara again, and sooner than either of them expected...this time, as part of a pack. 

In Volantis, where Cersei would one day arrive with the Sisterhood that would form tonight, the red priestess watched Cersei saunter through the streets while glimpsing into her flames. Melisandre’s room in the Temple of the Lord of Light was drafty, but she felt only fire in her blood from her faith in R’hllor, and from the feelings that arose when she looked at Cersei stride confidently through the city streets.  _ You’ve waited so long already. It will be soon enough _ , she told herself,  _ soon... _


	4. "Warrior queen, live passionately tonight"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reminder that in this au everyone in Westeros and Essos speaks the same language...I'm lazy, sorry

“Queen Cersei! Long may she reign!” the men in the pleasure house boomed as she strode in, but none of them were looking at her.  _ What in the Seven Hells _ , she thought, as her eyes adjusted to the dark, smoky room. Pushing through the crowd to find a place to get wine, she spotted herself. Rather, the whore posing as her. The pretty blonde in a white bridal dress sat on a chair, each leg held high above the crowd by four tall, strong men with stags painted on their bare chests. The girl giggled and waved to the crowd as she passed through, and a musician played “The Rains of Castamere” on his harp. As she drew closer and closer to Cersei, she saw her imposter’s hair was only tinted gold with a shimmering powder, the emeralds that adorned her crown were false, and her almond-shaped eyes were a deep blue, not green like her own. Cersei had to laugh, and as she paid for her drink, she locked eyes with the girl and raised her glass to her. The girl smiled slyly, and winked at Cersei.  _ Can she know? She can’t possibly know _ . 

“Say, “ she asked a man next to her, taking care to deepen her voice, “what word do we have of our runaway queen?” The green-bearded man looked her up and down. “A bit young and small to be here, eh? Well, this parody is the most anyone has seen of the lioness since her wedding. She seems to have been kidnapped, and neither Baratheon nor Lannister can find her. For all we know, she might be in one of these pleasure houses herself, up for sale to the highest bidder.” Cersei thanked him, and they clinked wine glasses before each taking a sip. “The girl is lovely to look at, but a sad, pale imitation of the real thing,” Cersei told him. Her neighbor’s brow furrowed. “You foolish child. Clearly you need to get your bearings here, what with your Westerosi accent. Rohanne might not be  _ the _ queen, but here in Tyrosh she is an honorary one. Only the luckiest men get to have her.” “And your luck?” Cersei asked. He chuckled. “As piss-poor as my earnings.” Cersei leapt off her stool. “I mean to be luckier than you,” she asserted, following the men who carried her imposter into the back rooms of the pleasure house. 

As Cersei grew closer and closer to the whores’ private chambers, she heard alternating laughter and screaming coming from each room she passed. Pressed against the wall so no one would see her, she kept her dagger under her sleeve, might anyone get in her way. One door was slightly ajar, a cinnamon scent wafting from it. Cersei peered inside. The whore called Rohanne stood naked in front of a looking-glass, shaking out her tresses to get the gold powder out. Underneath, a rich auburn emerged. Cersei watched her comb her long hair from behind, yearning to touch it and pull on it herself...and then the girl saw her in the mirror. 

“WHAT are you doing? Shut the door!” she exclaimed, and Cersei obeyed. Now that she was closer to her, with sharper lighting, Cersei observed the girl was of an age with her, and observed much as her as Rohanne turned around to face her, fully nude save for the red hair falling over one side of her body to her hips. “I have a customer coming soon. How did you get back here?” Her almond-shaped eyes widened, and Cersei felt her own heart race. “Cat’s got your tongue?” The girl laughed, and tossed her fall of hair behind her. “You don’t need to stay silent to prevent me from hearing a woman’s voice come out of that slender throat. I know you’re a girl. That’s why I winked at you earlier. It’s always,” she paused, “a pleasure to see a girl among my potential suitors.” She gave Cersei another one of those seductive smiles, and slowly sat down at the foot of her bed, adorned with gold silk sheets. Cersei thought about her great-grandmother, Rohanne Webber, another woman who had vanished from Westeros. What would her Lady great-grandmother think of a whore taking her name? She burst into laughter.

“Now, what’s so funny?” Rohanne asked, maintaining that seductive expression. “I just wondered what a whore is doing with a name more fit for a highborn lady” Cersei smirked, and Rohanne’s blue eyes narrowed. “You think you’re so far superior to me, just because I’m a whore? What with your sad wrinkled shirt and breeches? I come from the Reach, near Coldmoat. That’s how I got my name.” She stood up and placed a hand on her naked hip assertively; Cersei couldn't help but stare at her breasts. “My parents got a look at the hair on my infant head and named me after the Lady Webber of Coldmoat. Hers was red, too.” Cersei smirked.  _ That I know, as she is my own kin _ . “I’d kick you out of my chamber for your insolence if you weren’t so…” Rohanne stepped towards Cersei and pressed her bare chest towards Cersei’s clothed one. “How did a girl from the Reach end up here?” Cersei asked, stroking the back of Rohanne’s hair with one hand and her bare butt with the other. Rohenne brought her lips to Cersei’s ear, murmuring softly into it, as she untied Cersei’s shirt with one hand. “When you can’t stand to be married off to a man, there’s so few other choices. Can’t say I blame the Lannister queen for fleeing her marriage. I could never hide these—” she grasped one of Cersei’s hands and placed it on her breast—”to try and pass as a knight. And do I seem like the type modest enough to be a Septa or a silent sister? No, I’d rather have a different man each night than be bound to one for life. But what I really want…” her lips brushed against Cersei’s, and just when Cersei thought Rohanne was about to move in for a kiss, the girl pulled away and knelt to the side of her bed, pulling out a box from underneath it.

“What I want,” she said, surveying Cersei’s now-bare chest “is to open and run a pleasure house for women like us.” Cersei sneered. “Like  _ us _ ? I’m no whore.” Rohanne, still crouched upon the floor, arched an eyebrow. “One more jape and I'll kick you out. I meant women like...I could spot it in you from leagues away. Women who look at women the way you look at me. Women who become wet when they look at other women, as wet as I got when I spotted those sparkling green eyes in the crowd.” She opened the box, which overflowed with golden dragons. “I’ve been saving a percentage of my earnings to start my own pleasure house. Maybe I should name it Visenya’s Viper Den, as some say she was also...you know.” Cersei crouched down beside her and enveloped the girl in her arms, as they finally kissed. Rohanne’s tongue tasted like cinnamon too, and as Cersei pinned her underneath her own body, she wondered if all of her would taste like cinnamon.  _ Only one way to find out _ , she thought, as she lowered her lips to Rohanne’s…

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps grew louder and Rohanne sat up. “Seven Hells! I told you I had a customer! I should not have forgotten myself. But I’ll make it quick. Go hide behind my boudoir...yes, crouch, like that. Perfect.” Cersei watched from behind the boudoir as a tall man with a forked purple beard an extravagant velvet robe bejeweled with rubies strode in. “So  _ that’s _ where the money is!” he said, and slapped Rohanne, so hard her hair swung behind her. “Master! I had a customer tonight. I did not know you were coming! I can explain.” He grabbed her by the waist. “Explain what? Why the earnings I’ve gotten from you have not added up correctly in months? The explanation is right there!” He slapped her again. “You may pretend to be a queen and be called the queen of the whores, but I own this pleasure house. And those who steal from me will pay their debt. That pretty cheek will look dreadful adorned with a slave’s tattoos.” He slapped her a third time. Rohanne faced Cersei; her employer’s back was to her, and Cersei saw Rohanne smirk and bring her hand to her bruised face. “I shall wear this as a badge of honor,” she declared, and he pushed her onto the floor. 

Cersei had no control over her body or her mind. They were ruled by her emotions as she crept quietly from behind the boudoir, heart pounding as she watched Rohanne squirm. She slid the dagger out from underneath her sleeve, for she had been able to quietly dress again while the scene before her played out. Holding her breath as she stood behind him, she grabbed his head and slashed his neck, deeply. His blood sprayed out all over Rohanne’s chest, and the man gargled, then rolled over to his side, where he looked up at Cersei holding the blood-soaked dagger. “You spoke of debts? A Lannister always pays her debts,” she sneered at him. Rohanne smiled as Cersei dug the knife into his chest. With every jab his face changed, first into Robert’s, then Rhaeghar’s, then her father’s...

“He’s already dead! You can’t kill him ten more times!” she heard Rohanne squeal, sitting up naked and covered in blood. Cersei snapped out of her daze and found her own hands covered in blood as well. She’d never felt more alive than when killing him, not even when kissing Lyanna. “We have to run! I’ll be killed for this.  _ You’ll _ be killed for this!” Rohanne said. Disregarding the need to wash the blood off her chest, she threw on a green dress. “But where am I to go?,” she murmured, and started to cry. Cersei outstretched a bloody hand to Rohanne, who grasped it. “Take the gold. There is a boat headed for Volantis tonight that we’ll join.” she calmly instructed Rohanne. When she’d seen the faces of all the men who’d hurt her flash before her eyes, she saw another path towards vengeance. Perhaps Ashara was right when she’d said that killing two children would not bring anyone justice. Was it the dragon’s bloodline that was responsible for Lyanna’s death, or the dragon’s sex that was responsible for hurting Lyanna, hurting Cersei, hurting Rohanne, hurting Ashara?  _ Everywhere in the world, they hurt girls _ .  _ From Lannisport all the way to Volantis, and beyond. But we can strike back. _

Rohanne’s hand trembled in Cersei’s as she stood up, and she ran to grab the chest of gold, placing its contents into a bag she stuffed into her bodice while avoiding the sight of the dead man collapsed onto the floor. “I know how to get back to the port from here and where the ship is,” Cersei told her, guiding her towards the window. “Just take my hand.” Rohanne regained her composure, and was once again the cocksure girl Cersei had first seen. “A Lannister always pays her debts?” she said quizzically. “I’ll explain later. Let’s go. Now!” Cersei huffed, as she jumped out the window and pulled Rohanne through. Hand in hand, they ran through the dark street, fast enough for no one to notice their blood-soaked clothes. Finally reaching the ship she came from, Cersei and Rohanne climbed aboard. 

The sound of footsteps came up the deck.  _ Ashara _ . Her hair was tousled from sleep, and she rubbed her hands with her eyes. “Ashara, this is Rohanne,” Cersei said. “She’s coming with us.” “Us?” Ashara asked, her eyebrows raising as she noticed the two girls were covered in blood. Cersei grinned. “You said your manse in Volantis had extra room. And there are plenty of men in Volantis begging for a good killing.” 


	5. "I would beg to disagree, but begging disagrees with me"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cersei’s “dream” (is it a dream? up to you to decide!) is inspired by this spellbinding scene from the 1966 movie Persona: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rOqmVD8jTnc

The two lionesses sitting beside the so-called Lady Myrcella came as no surprise to Melisandre. Cersei Lannister could never fully renounce her true identity, nor her pride. As she walked into the room where the hidden queen received visitors, she took in the sight of Cersei in her leather vest and breeches, sword with a lion’s head carved atop it strapped to her belt as always, with a lion at each side of her throne. Not an official throne, of course, but Cersei made any chair she sat in seem like one. 

“Pray tell, what does a religious fanatic want from me? Did your red god do something that needs to be avenged? You realize the Sisterhood only can…. deal with... mortal men, not deities,” she sneered. At the sound of the word “sisterhood,” the other three women emerged from behind Cersei, taking their place next to her throne. The red-haired one sat aside one of the lionesses and stroked its head, smiling as the beast licked her hand. The dark-haired beauty placed a hand on the other side of Cersei’s chair from behind and stared Melisandre down with her haunting purple eyes, while the Ironborn woman, clad in men’s clothing like her leader while the other two wore gowns of fine silk, stood aside, eyes widening at the sight of the red priestess. _She should be used to seeing R’hllor’s servants by now, after all these years in Volantis_ , Melisandre thought, but recognized that she was no ordinary red priestess. Melisandre had practiced her art for years beyond count, and had gained a strength greater than anyone else’s at the Temple of the Lord of Light. No one’s power matched hers, and no one’s aura—or beauty—were as powerful and transfixing.

Cersei leaned forward towards Melisandre and stroked the long braid that fell into her lap. When she’d first arrived in Volantis, Melisandre recalled, her golden hair had been shorn close to her head. As Melisandre observed Cerei over the years both in her flames and from the Temple’s view, she watched Cersei constantly vacillate between growing it out and chopping it off. She looked fierce when her long blonde braid swung behind her as she thrust a sword into rapists and reavers, but hacked it off whenever it reached the length it'd been when Westeros had known her as Cersei; Melisandre wondered why. Not that Melisandre minded, for she equally loved looking at Cersei with her hair curling about her hips and when it was cut short, falling over her green eyes. She often wondered how it would feel to rub the back of Cersei’s hair when it was newly-cut and soft...but she would focus on Cersei’s appearance another time. Today, she had to deliver a message. 

“I don’t want anything from you, I have a gift I want to give you.” Cersei arched her left eyebrow, and the other ladies also looked confused. Over the course of their years in Volantis, the Sisterhood Without Banners had been asked favors by hundreds of women, not given anything in return. _Take the hand he touched me with. Take the gold he received from selling me. Take his life for the life he stole from me when he raped me and left me to die._ They might as well call themselves the Faceless Women on account of the service they did— granting the gift of vengeance to women who asked for their help— and for their ability to get away with their deeds with a sweet smile, passing in society as queerly fierce highborn ladies who never showed blood on their hands. 

It was not exactly true that they got nothing in return. Rohanne used her powers of seduction to lure men into their deaths, and was often thanked by the girls she helped with their kisses. By smuggling desperate women out of Volantis, Laurel got to see the world. The one everyone called Violet because of her eyes, who Melisandre knew was Ashara of House Dayne, enjoyed the pleasure of teaching, and mentored lost girls in the scholarly arts. No one, though, got a benefit as fulfilling as their leader, the one who went by the name Lady—despite donning men’s clothes—Myrcella. She wanted a storm to match the rage inside her, and nothing quite matched it like a storm of swords raised in combat against weak men. 

“If your red god has some red wine for us, I’ll take that gift,” Cersei smirked. “We do, but I have something more precious,” Melisandre replied. Their eyes never broke contact. “The Targaryen children have been found in Pentos. Daenerys Stormborn is now betrothed to a great Khal, and their wedding is soon. I can take you to them, and you can accomplish your goal. Fulfill your promise.” Cersei’s back stiffened. “My promise,” she murmured. Melisandre continued to lock eyes with her and she recited the words she’d heard while watching the scene play out in the flames: “Your promise to avenge her. She asked you: _promise me, Cersei...._ ”

Cersei stood up and pointed her sword at Melisandre, grabbing Melisandre towards her by the back and bringing the tip of her sword to Melisandre’s throat, One of the lionesses roared, and the Sisterhood stood back in shock. “Who sent you?” Cersei menacingly sneered into Melisandre’s ear, quietly, which made it all the more...thrilling. Yes, it thrilled Melisandre to have Cersei’s chest pressed against hers, face so close she could slit her throat at any moment. “I will have your head if you don’t tell me how you’re tricking me.”

“She’s telling the truth!” Laurel’s high voice arose from behind, but Cersei maintained her warrior’s stance. “When I was at the docks yesterday, the Mormont man was preparing his ship and talking about going to Pentos for the wedding. He was telling other men on the ship that he meant to spy on the Targaryens for Lord Varys, and that his crew is headed to Pentos on the morrow.” 

Cersei lowered her sword but kept Melisandre’s body in her grip from behind. “Bring him to me, then,” she said. “Rohanne, surely you can seduce him and slip something into his drink?”

“No need,” Melisandre replied. Behind her, two red priests walked into the room, each holding Ser Jorah Mormont, the exiled knight, by one arm. He was almost unconscious, and his body dangled as they dragged him across the floor to Cersei and Melisandre. Cersei finally let go of Melisandre and walked over to inspect Jorah.”The Targaryen girl,” she said to him, “is it true? I thought she was dead. I had not thought of those children in many years but, if they are alive…” “Aye, it’s the truth,” he murmured. “Prove it,” Cersei demanded. Melisandre laughed, and Cersei glared at her. “Lady Myrcella,” she explained, “to prove it, I must show you my flames. Is there a dark room where we can light a fire?” Cersei looked at each of her Sisters to ascertain their thoughts. Awestruck, they all nodded. “Yes, but my Sisters will be outside the door ready to kill you should you deceive me. And have your priests bring Ser Jorah with us, so my sisters can watch over him and make sure he won’t escape.” Melisandre smiled softly. “Oh, he won’t be going anywhere. We need him.” “We?” Cersei asked, and arched an eyebrow. “Yes, we. I’ll have to join you for reasons you’ll soon understand,” Melisandre replied. _Was that a blush that crept up Cersei’s cheeks?_

Indeed it was a joint mission. Cersei had always yearned to kill the surviving Targaryens; she dreamt of slaying a three-headed dragon on the nights she did not dream of Lyanna. Melisandre knew this, and she would use Cersei’s thirst for vengeance to her advantage, to get to Daenerys. _Daenerys is our hope. She must be counseled, taught, protected. She is Azor Ahai, born amidst salt and smoke. And once Cersei sees this, she will help me save her. And crown her._

“Follow me,” Cersei commanded, and Melisandre and the Sisters all stepped down winding stairs behind her. The chamber was dark until Cersei lit a torch and placed it on the ground. Sitting on the stone floor cross-legged, in a manner the septas who raised her would have scorned, she made the torch stand on the floor erect. “Now do whatever it is you do to convince me I’m seeing things that don’t exist,” she said, looking up at Melisandre, who remained standing. Melisandre approached the flame, and brought her hands close to it, murmuring in the dark words of Asshai. Cersei mimed a yawn to signal her impatience, but Melisandre’s eyes were closed and she neither noticed nor cared. Then she felt the sensation of kerosene in her hands, tingling, and opened her eyes. The flames had grown to the size of a looking glass, and reflected the image of a silver-haired boy hovering over a bed, with a thin silver-haired girl huddled under the covers, shrinking away from him. “You don’t want to wake the dragon,” he told her, as she continued to creep up against the pillows, her purple eyes widening in fear. Cersei leaned in closer to the flame, reaching out her hand as if to touch it, but Melisandre gently pushed her hand away. “I...I won’t” Daenerys said. “I’ll be a good girl. I’ll do everything to please Drogo, I promise….promise...promise…”

The word “promise” lingered in the air and echoed, as if the dragon girl was saying it over and over, but their shapes melted, and her voice transformed into a huskier voice saying the same word. “Promise me, Cersei,” the voice said, and the melting figures reformed into the wolf girl and the lioness lying under the stars in the forest surrounding Harrenhal, the wolf girl stroking the lioness’ hair softly. “Promise me, Cersei, to find a way to be with me. You can marry my brother and then we can see one another. Something. I will find a way to hold onto you.” 

“ENOUGH!” Cersei, the present, adult Cersei, roared, as she shot up from the floor. “Put that flame out this instant or I’ll have your head!” Melisandre waved her hand in front of the flames and they vanished. Cersei placed one hand on her hip, the other on her sword’s hilt. The two women faced another, Melisandre’s red eyes boring into Cersei’s emerald ones. “I believe you. I believe what you showed me is real. The gods tossed the coin on the wrong side when they made the boy. And the girl looks just like Rheagar, but so fragile…” her voice trailed off. “I might as well put an end to her misery before she is raped by an entire khalasar.” Melisandre nodded. “Good” she said, with a far different plan in her mind. With Cersei glamoured as Ser Jorah, she would get access to the Targaryen children and could do whatever she wanted with Viserys, but her wrath would not engulf Daenerys. “Have your sisters bring the man in.” Cersei opened the door, and after Melisandre heard her say something to the women outside, Ser Jorah’s body tumbled down the stairs. He lay flat on his back, helpless, with two formidable women standing over him. “What do you women want from me? Gold?” he moaned, “or my cock inside you?” Cersei crouched down and slapped him. “All we need is that bear necklace you’re wearing, your ship, and your crew,” Melisandre told him. He started to sit up. “There’s no way two women could get anything from me,” he cackled. Cersei drew her sword and pinned him to the floor; he had been beaten too much by the red priests to resist. “I would beg to disagree,” she said to him in that quietly menacing tone of hers, “but begging disagrees with me.” She smiled sweetly, like a maiden, and dug her sword into his eye socket. 

*********************************************************************************************************

That evening, Cersei could not tell if she was awake or asleep. The hot touch of the red woman’s fingers on her arm felt so real as she hovered over Cersei’s bed. Her hair, covered by a hood during their meeting, was loose, and tumbled onto the bed as she leaned forward to touch Cersei’s arm. It was so long that it trailed behind her in crimson waves that fell past her thighs. Cersei’s own hair hung loose around her body, _so this must be a dream_ , she told herself, for she always kept it fastened in a tight braid as severe and stern as her bearings, even in her sleep. But she swore she could _feel_ it bounce against her hips. The red woman was naked, and as Cersei took in the sight of her body, she could not help but admire the curves of her ample breasts and hips. The ruby shone bright at Melisandre’s neck as she gently grabbed Cersei’s arm saying, “come, come.”

Cersei no longer had any control over her body; she was at the red woman’s beckoning. She dragged her own naked body out of bed, as Melisandre led her to the mirror. She turned Cersei’s body so that they both faced the mirror, and stood behind her and she wrapped one arm around Cersei’s waist, using the other to brush Cersei’s hair off her face, raking her long, graceful fingers through Cersei’s hair and stroking it repeatedly. In her slumber, Cersei could not—and had no desire to—put up any resistance. As the two women watched themselves in the mirror, the red woman then moved her mouth down the back of Cersei’s head, kissing the nape of her neck, then encircling her full lips around Cersei’s neck...

And then Cersei woke up. It was light outside, and no trace of the red woman’s presence was there. _Only a dream, an odd, queer dream, but just a dream_ , she told herself. She rose from her bed and walked up to the mirror, looking into it intently.. The spot of her neck hurt where the red woman’s mouth had sucked on it, but when she looked in her looking glass, no mark was present. Her hair had somehow fallen out of its tightly-fastened braid, though, and as Rohanne walked in, she asked if Cersei wanted her to braid her hair. Cersei nodded at Rohanne, with whom she had shared so much over these adventurous years. Even as a child Cersei had rarely slept alone—first she shared a bed with Jaime, and then with a succession of handmaidens—and when she did she felt empty. Rohanne and Ashara would often alternate nights sharing her bed and keeping her company. Yet their kisses and touches, while sweet, were usually no more than sisterly, for the two women themselves had fallen in love on the boat to Volantis, and had been married ever since in all but the eyes of the gods. While the three of them would sometimes make love, and from time to time both Rohanne and Cersei had fleeting dalliances—in flesh and not in spirit—with other women, Rohanne and Ashara had an unbreakable bond. _Like Lyanna and I could have had, if she had not been taken from me._

As Rohanne braided Cersei’s hair, Cersei reflected on how odd it felt to have someone else touch it—usually, she forbade any fingers but her own from approaching her crown. Anyone else’s felt almost like a violation of her territory. “You, Laurel, and Ashara will be able to handle all of our business and feed the lions while I am gone, yes?” Cersei asked. In the looking glass, Cersei observed Rohanne’s surprised expression. “You’re going to Pentos? Truly? I thought you'd abandoned that silly plot ages ago about...” Cersei spun around and knocked the brush out of Rohanne’s hand, her curtain of gold hair flying about her as Rohanne stumbled backwards. “I am going to accomplish what I set out East to do,” she said, pointing the brush at Rohanne, “and when I return, we’ll put two silver heads on display outside the manse.” Rohanne straightened her back. “Of course,” she demurred, and then smiled slyly like she always did. “Now can I have the brush back and finish what _I_ set out to do?” Cersei turned around to face the looking glass again. With her hair billowing about her, she looked like the girl Lyanna had loved. It pained her to see that girl in the mirror without Lyanna by her side, so she never wore her hair loose when it was long and always impulsively chopped it off if she caught sight in the looking glass of Lady Lannister with her heralded curls falling to the bottom of her back. To be practical for fighting, she told herself, but really, it was for Lyanna. “Go ahead,” she said, as Rohanne approached and gently braided Cersei’s hair.

When Cersei opened her bedroom door to leave, she did not expect to see the red woman standing directly outside, holding a satchel and wearing a red velvet shawl covering a gown Cersei longed to glimpse. Melisandre smiled mischievously and dangled the satchel in front of Cersei’s eyes, asking, “shall we begin?”


	6. “If you think you can save me, I dare you to try”

Ser Jorah’s shipmates looked puzzled to see him accompanied by a red priestess. “You’ve never been religious,” the captain said, peering under the woman’s red hood into her red eyes. “I’m still not. She’s a gift for Daenerys Targaryen, to tutor her in the art of sorcery.” He grabbed Melisandre’s arm and swept her under the deck into the cabins, pretending to know which one to go to. “To the right,” Melisandre said softly, and he entered his chamber, loudly shutting the door behind him. 

“Now can I take this blasted thing off?” he growled, tugging at his necklace engraved with a bear. “If only I’m around, yes” Melisandre replied, “but you know full well that if you remove it, and if I remove this”—she thrust a pale arm out from under her cloak so that the matching bracelet that encircled her wrist was in his view—the glamour will disappear, and they’ll see Cersei. I can call you that, yes? Since I know who you are and have no plan to tell anyone.”

Cersei scratched the back of her head, covered in coarse black hair, and shrugged. “I suppose. I just still don’t understand why you’re helping me to begin with. And why you insist we remain so close to one another at all times.” 

“I told you,” Melisandre said with a stern look on her face, “the dragon family’s lineage is a threat to the whole world’s security. Should they survive and produce more dragons, we will face a darkness that will never end. And about the latter point,” she pushed back her hood, her eyes gleaming, “the glamour works best if Mormont’s relics are as close as possible to one another at all times.”

“Must we sleep in the same chamber, then?” Cersei asked sarcastically. She certainly would not mind looking at the red woman all day and night, but had never laid for more than one consecutive night with anyone but Lyanna. Melisandre, however...would lying with her be the same as lying with a mortal woman? Her skin was so pale it shone, and those hooded red eyes—what human had red eyes? Everything about her was red. Cersei had seen red, but never at this intensity. Rohanne’s hair was red; Melisandre’s was blood and flame, and fell to a length that most women’s hair could not reach, almost hitting the floor when unbound. The ruby at her throat pulsed, and she never took it off.  _ Would she remove it when she sleeps, or if I tore it off her before fucking her? _ There was an eerie quality about her, uncanny, unnatural...but also captivating. When Cersei observed her, she noticed flickers of unexpected warmth and sadness behind those odd eyes, and recognized the visage of another woman who also wore a stoic mask to survive.  _ What has she been through? What has she overcome that she must hide behind a steely gaze like mine?  _

Melisandre had told her she could remove the necklace to sleep, however, which was a relief. Her body tingled constantly from the glamour, and it would have been difficult to sleep in such discomfort. After the night’s feast, during which Melisandre stood apart from the crew, neither eating nor drinking, Cersei stormed back into her cabin and flung the necklace off. She watched Jorah Mormont’s large, hairy body contort itself back into her own form in the mirror, the tingling feeling receding. She frowned, however, when she saw that her hair was loose.  _ It had been braided when she put the glamour upon me back at the manse _ , she thought. Her fingers inched towards the sword at her hilt; if she had to look at those golden waves for any longer, she’d dream of Lyanna again, and her heart could not soften during this trip. But just as she grabbed the sword, ready to slice it through her hair, her fingers froze as she heard a knock on the door.

_ Shit _ , she thought. The crew should all be asleep right now; what could anyone want at this hour? No one could see her true form. Cersei lowered her voice as best she could and shouted out “who calls?” “A stranger from Asshai,” Melisandre’s voice replied. Cersei knew not why Melisandre would come, but perhaps it was urgent. She opened the door.

Even in the darkness, Melisandre gleamed red: her eyes, her hair, her velvet robe all burned in the night. “The Targaryens’ death calls,” she purred, and Cersei had to smile. She let Melisandre into the room. “I’m surprised you’re awake at this hour,” she told Melisandre, sitting on her bed. “Don’t be. I do not sleep.” Cersei tossed her hair back. “Would that I could deny myself sleep. Dreams always bring me back to the past. But at least now we...I mean, I will resolve some of the thoughts that haunt me. Now, tell me about this death you bring.” 

Cersei thought she saw a smile cross Melisandre’s face, as she drew a black box out from her robe’s pocket and placed it on the bed. “Do you know what it means to be a shadowbinder?” she asked, walking closer to Cersei. “I know that they’re dangerous. But so am I.” Melisandre’s laugh was deep and melodic. “Indeed you are. But shadowbinders like myself, we can conjure death from inside us. In here.” She grabbed Cersei’s hand and placed it on her stomach, opening her robe to reveal her naked body underneath. “You can take off the robe. I know you want to.” Still sitting while Melisandre stood in front of the bed, Cersei tore off Melisandre’s red robe to take in the sight of her fully-naked body. It looked exactly as it had in that odd dream in Volantis; her breasts were perfectly-formed, with nipples in exact proportion to their size. Her stomach was flat, her waist slender. Like the rest of her appearance, her body looked too uncannily perfect to be real. Her completely-bare vagina, however, uncovered by any hair, unsettled Cersei, but could she have expected to see hair the color of flame and blood there? She had wondered what true hair color the red woman’s pubes would reveal, but Melisandre apparently wanted no one to know. 

Cersei began to draw Melisandre in towards her, but the red woman pulled back and grabbed the box. “As I was saying,” she intoned, and playfully rapped Cersei’s fingers with the box, “shadowbinders can summon, create, and bend shadows to our will. And one of those ways is by birthing death.” Cersei looked confused. “I mean to fulfill your mission by birthing death in Pentos, but will need your assistance. It can only be done with your assistance...and an instrument’s” She bent over to open the box, and Cersei stared at her curtain of hair falling over her pert backside. She hardly even noticed the glimmering gold inside the box until Melisandre thrust it under her eyes...oh, gods, was that a…

Melisandre grabbed the strap-on, made out of pure, hard, solid gold, and put it in her mouth, sucking and licking it all over, which made Cersei salivate and begin to unbutton her blouse. As Melisandre handed it to her, Cersei knew she should be questioning what in the seven hells this madwoman was doing, but she was too overcome by lust to think; she could only feel: the leather caressing her thighs as Melisandre put the harness on Cersei, Melisandre’s thick hair falling onto Cersei’s bare chest as she climbed atop her, her own pelvis tilting upwards as she entered Melisandre from below, Melisandre’s hair swaying all over Cersei’s body as she rocked back and forth, her head rolling back in pleasure. Melisandre opened wider as Cersei thrust the strap more deeply inside her, grunting as she pumped. With each of Cersei’s grunts, Melisandre sighed almost wistfully, not crying out in pain as most women being penetrated by a solid object would. Cersei had always been on top when penetrating another woman, but it felt natural for the red priestess to loom over her, like a flame illuminating both their bodies. 

After many thrusts, for most of which Cersei’s hands wrapped around Melisandre’s waist, Melisandre finally, delicately slid the gold out of her and collapsed onto the bed next to Cersei. Did Cersei feel... _ playful _ right now? It was not normal for the warrior queen to feel playful, but as she turned around to face Melisandre and brought the red woman’s hair into her hand and lay it over her arm, stroking it, she let Melisandre kiss her atop her own head and touch her own loose hair. At first, Cersei winced; Lyanna was the only woman who had ever stroked Cersei’s loose hair when it was long, and she had never wanted another woman to, choosing to bed other women only when her hair was braided or cut short. Lyanna had crowned her queen of love and beauty, so only Lyanna should be allowed to touch her crown. But after the initial shock of the red woman’s long fingers in her hair, her body relaxed, and she allowed Melisandre to put her face in it, breathing in Cersei’s scent. When Melisandre pulled back, Cersei intertwined her golden tresses with Melisandre’s crimson, winding them together in a spiral. Crimson and gold, like the Lannister house colors. 

“It is just before the dawn,” Melisandre finally said, after letting Cersei intertwine their hair for as long as she pleased. “That means I must leave. No one should see the red priestess leaving Ser Jorah’s chamber.” As Melisandre sat up, Cersei grabbed her and pulled her in for a kiss, a deep one, filled with hunger. At the end of their kiss, Melisandre smiled at her, her eyes sparkling. “You’ll need to break fast with the crew. But don’t worry...” she grabbed the gold strap and its harness and stood up, delicately pulling her robe around her before exiting the room, “...you can have dessert again tomorrow night.” As the red woman departed, Cersei fell back upon the pillow and bit her bottom lip. She was already hungry for more. 


	7. "Only Skin"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She had no time for sleep, with the weight of the world upon her shoulders. And she feared to dream. 'Sleep is a little death, dreams the whisperings of the Other, who would drag us all into his eternal night.' Some nights she drowsed, but never for more than an hour. One day, Melisandre prayed, she would not sleep at all. One day she would be free of dreams. 'Melony,' she thought, 'Lot Seven.'" –Melisandre, A Dance with Dragons

Melisandre’s inability to sleep was best concealed from mortal men...and especially from a dangerous woman. But she could not sleep, would not sleep. To sleep meant to dream, and to dream meant to return to her past, To Melony, at lot seven, where she could not let herself go. “Take off your clothes” Cersei commanded after leading Melisandre into her chambers. Melisandre had won Cersei’s trust over these last few weeks at sea; her tongue knew how to please the hidden queen, and it pleased Melisandre to use her magic to bring a flush of warmth to Cersei’s icy glare. Melisandre had disrobed for so many people over so many years that she’d lost count long ago, but never for a Queen. 

Cersei’s green eyes bore into her with a tinge of wickedness, and Melisandre shrugged off her red robe as she approached the bed, her heart beating with increasing rapidity. Melisandre stood in front of Cersei, slowly unbraiding her long red hair as Cersei grabbed Melisandre’s body to her lips and kissed her stomach. On most nights, she had been content to sit by her lord’s blessed flames, her cheeks washed by the heat as if by a lover’s kisses. But even R’hllor’s flames never sent a rush through her like Cersei’s kisses, and as she finished unbraiding her hair, Cersei grabbed Melisandre’s loose, thick hair to pull her onto the bed, where she fell onto her back as Cersei kissed her from above, hungrily on the mouth and then moving further and further down until...yes, yes, oh yes, she could not remember when she had last felt the pleasure of a lover’s lips devouring her there, where she needed to be loved. As she climaxed, Melisandre grabbed Cersei’s braid and bit down hard on her own lip, almost drawing blood. The Queen rose up to lie beside her, circling her finger around Melisandre’s nipple with one hand and rubbing her fingers over the ruby at Melisandre’s throat with the other. It felt so right, and it felt so comfortable. Her eyelids started to flutter.  _ Too comfortable. I must not sleep. I cannot sleep... _

“Melony!” the woman’s voice cried. Melony’s eyes were filled with tears, and her neck hurt as she tried looking back at her mother while the slaver pulled on the chain that was attached to her collar. Her mother reached out to her with one arm, her other arm clutching baby Melora to her breast. And then the tears came, uncontrollably. Melony sobbed as the man yanked at her chain, pulling her away from her mother and sister, who remained on the auction block. “Lot Seven!” he yelled. She fell to her knees but still he dragged her and, tiny girl she was, malnourished, her body slid off the block and onto the floor, where she hit the hard floor with a thud . The crowd laughed at the sight of the scrawny, naked little girl sobbing, and when she felt the next yank at her neck Melony pulled herself upright and stood up. Don’t look back, if you look back you are lost. She was property, no longer a daughter or a sister. She had been once, then taken to Lot Seven, and now sold. As the slaver pulled her through the crowd she wondered who her mother and sister would be sold to.  _ Would they remain together? Will mother tell Melora about me, or will she try to forget me to move forward and forget, just as I must forget them?  _

Finally the crowd vanished; she had managed to stumble through them and was huddled in a group of other children just like her, shivering in their nudity even under the hot sun. The slaver had others join him now, and Melony’s eyes widened in terror as she saw their faces, tattooed with flames all over their cheeks, rising up onto and around their eyes. She had seen the tattooed faces of slaves before but never faces this covered , this frightening.  _ The Red God,  _ she thought,  _ I’ve been sold to the Red Temple _ . She did not quite know what they did or what this meant for her, only that their strangely-tattooed men spoke of a Great Other and of a Lord of Light. She had heard them faintly in the background as she snuck around alleyways looking for food, but that was before she had been captured and sold. She had been so focused on finding food that she had not bothered to look at their faces… their faces, which filled her with terror.

_ Look at them and don’t look away like a scared little girl. They’ll hurt you more if you look scared.  _ One of the men approached her and detached her chain, then pulled her away from the other children, although her collar with its individual chain still remained. However, he took her by the hand instead of dragging her by the chain as the slaver had done. His hand clasped hers more gently than she would have expected from someone whose face was so frightening, and somehow she felt her fear dissolve a bit. His head was bald, and the tattooed flames flooded his face and licked his scalp. He threw a pile of red fabric over her head to cover her shivering body, and stroked her dirty, tangled brown hair. “Bless this child, R’hllor,” he said, slowly stroking her face. As he touched her face, his fingers warmed it, and she felt herself becoming strangely comfortable. Too comfortable...

For before she could notice, three other red priests had her pinned down upon the floor, with the slaver looking down upon her wickedly. “She’s yours now,” he said. “Take her to the Temple after you mark her.” The man with the gentle grip gave the slaver his gold, and then extracted something odd-looking from his billowy robes. Three tattooed, flaming faces stared down at her with what looked like pity as they pinned her down, and the man drew himself closer to her with the strange instruments. She suddenly felt sick and started to scream, but he placed his hand over her mouth to stifle her cries. “Child, this will be easier if you do not move. You are one of us now.” Melony squirmed under the priests’ grasp, and their leader stroked her cheek. “A pretty little cheek, but it is only skin, and our flesh belongs to the Lord of Light” he said as he placed something under her nose that made her start to lose consciousness when she inhaled it. She began to feel the prick of a hot needle on her cheek where his hand had caressed it, quiet, it is only skin, only skin, he repeated, now being caressed by the needles instead, covered with flames, and she began to scream...but then she felt the whip...

No, not the whip. She opened her eyes and she was with Cersei, panting as she sat up in bed and felt Cersei’s fingernails rake across her back. _ It felt like the whip, it felt like the whip they used on m _ e. She grasped the ruby at her neck and breathed a deep sigh of relief that it was still there. She did not need a looking-glass to know that the beautiful pale-skinned, red-haired woman would look back from it, not the starving little girl with tangled brown hair screaming as her face became covered with the flame tattoos that consumed the cheeks of those sold to the Red God. But in Cersei’s warm arms she had let herself fall asleep. She could not sleep...would not. She could not return to the distant past where sleep thrust her. Tears streamed down her face, and she held in a sob as she swatted Cersei’s hand off her back. Cersei then sat up as well, groggy from sleep, for it was still the middle of the night,  _ Good. I did not let myself sleep too long. One night, please R’hllor, one night I will not sleep at all. _

Cersei grabbed Melisandre’s breast and pinched her nipple, hard, making Melisandre yelp. “I have taken a liking to you, yes,” Cersei said slyly as she combed her fingers through Melisandre’s thick red waves of hair, “but you’re already trying to escape my bed? I must have been wrong to trust you.” Confident that her eyes no longer brimmed with tears, Melisandre turned to Cersei with the composure she always needed to present herself with to others. “No, it was a dark dream, it’s over. But can you…” she paused, and Cersei looked her in the eyes quizzically, “until the night is over, hold on until the night is over.” Cersei smirked “I am the rightful queen of these seven kingdoms. No one tells me what to do.” But Melisandre’s red eyes penetrated something within Cersei, who then yanked Melisandre’s hair to pull her back down into the bed, where she rubbed her shoulders. “I will not fall asleep again,” Melisandre said softly, and Cersei bit her neck. This was good pain though, and Melisandre smiled, it was not like the pain she had felt when... no.  _ Melony will not visit me again tonight. Nor any other night.. _

Her eyelids fluttered again and when they opened, she saw light streaming through the window, felt fingernails stroking her upper thighs. “We’ve arrived in Pentos but I’ve remained here. I wanted to watch you sleep,” Cersei smirked, and Melisandre flipped over to face her in disbelief. Somehow, in Cersei’s arms, the dark dreams truly were over and she slept. She had slept without dreams! Melisandre started to laugh, and kissed Cersei deeply. She pulled back and saw her face reflected in Cersei’s green eyes, her beautiful unmarked face. Stroking the top of Cersei’s hair and kissing her neck gently, she was happy, and felt free.

Melisandre reluctantly withdrew from Cersei’s arms after kissing her breast again, and returned to her cabin. Placing her hand over her growing stomach, the shadow inside her beginning to move, she reflected over these past few weeks. She had won Cersei’s trust, and her body, but she needed to win Cersei’s heart in order to fulfill her mission to save Daenerys...and herself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you have not read A DANCE WITH DRAGONS, in it we learn that many of R'hllor's servants have flame tattoos on their face as part of their enslavement to the Temple, which is where I got the idea that Melisandre might have them as as well, under her glamour. This chapter was re-worked for this story but originally published as part of my Melsi canon-based series "Red Is The Warmest Color" (https://archiveofourown.org/series/977337) in 2018 after listening to the song "Only Skin" by Joanna Newsom while rereading ADWD and its themes and imagery inspiring me to flesh out (pun intended) her backstory.


	8. “Give me something I can see, something bigger and louder than the voices in me: something to believe”

Melisandre had shown Cersei the children many times in the flames during the trip, but seeing them in person was like being in the presence of ghosts. In Viserys, Cersei saw his brother’s beauty, but his father’s cruelty lingered behind those purple eyes. And Daenerys... _ the sight of her should make my sight boil; she looks like Rhaeghar with teats. The same sad eyes, the same balance of delicacy and fierceness _ . But somehow, the rage she felt when she looked at Viserys softened when she looked at Daenerys—at least, to the extent that anything about Cersei could ever be soft.  _ She may be dangerous because of the blood that runs through her veins, but she is so small. And so mistreated.  _ Night after night, she had watched Viserys torment his sister in Melisandre’s flames. “This is boring,” she’d complained to the red woman while pulling on the ends of Melisandre’s hair from behind. “Why can’t you show me anything more exciting in their lives?” Melisandre turned around. “Because this is their life. These are their days, every day.” Cersei huffed with frustration. She might say it bored her to have to see such repetitious scenes, but if she was honest with herself, she was not bored; she was weary of having to endure Viserys’s taunts and slaps secondhand and of looking at Daenerys’ bruises. It was not in her nature, however, to admit any sympathy. 

“What a lovely gift from the east!” the fat man, Illyrio Mopatis, boomed, wrapping his arms around the Targargyen siblings as Cersei, glamoured as Jorah, presented Melisandre to them at the pre-wedding feast. “These savages,” —he gestured at the Dothraki—”don’t care a thing about religion, but it will be helpful for our Khaleesi to gain as much knowledge of the world as possible.”  _ Who is he to call others savage when he leers at the child’s breasts like that? _ , Cersei thought to herself. But the Dothraki were indeed formidable, and Daenerys looked afraid whenever glancing in their direction. “Thank you, ser,” she said, smiling at Cersei. Despite her fear, there was steel in her voice. “And for me?” Viserys asked. “Where is my gift?” He appraised Melisandre as if she was a piece of meat. Cersei gripped her sword, but Melisandre swatted her hand away from it underneath the table. “Should you be wanting any...spiritual enlightenment,” Melisandre told him, “I can provide it to you tonight.” He grinned and winked at her. “After the sun sets, then, yes?” “Yes,” she replied, batting her long eyelashes.

Cersei and Melisandre had discussed this part of the plan countless times. The boy would be unable to resist her, and once they were alone together...well, Cersei was not sure exactly what would happen then, but Melisandre assured Cersei that only she would be leaving his chamber. Without her brother looming over her, getting Daenerys alone when she was most vulnerable would be no trouble at all. Melisandre raked her nails up and down Cersei’s bare arm as they lay in bed together while instructing her. “Just accompany me to Viserys’ chamber as Jorah and wait outside, so that you can prevent him from leaving when he tries.” “When? Not if?” Cersei had asked, twisting Melisandre’s nipple. Melisandre didn’t flinch. “When.”

After the first hearty course, which Daenerys only picked at, the drumbeats grew louder. “Ah, here comes our man!” Mopatis shouted. For there he came: Khal Drogo, whose uncut braid signified that he had never lost a fight and whose giant muscles signaled that he never would. Cersei would probably consider him handsome if she bothered to consider men. 

Daenerys, however, did not seem to notice his fierce beauty. A look of terror seized her eyes as he approached, and when Cersei looked at her watching him, suddenly Daenerys’ purple eyes turned grey. The surroundings seemed to melt, and then reformed into the setting of a day long past, the day the smiles died. Rhaegar had just thrown the crown of blue roses into Lyanna’s lap, and her eyes were filled with terror as she held it, lips sinking into a confused frown. She found Cersei in the crowd, her eyes crying for help as her voice could not...and suddenly, Lyanna was Daenerys again, looking at Cersei with her eyes also pleading for help. Their eyes may not be the same color, but in that moment of being faced down by men they feared, they were identical.  _ And I must save her _ ,  _ as I couldn’t save Lyanna, _ Cersei realized. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks.

Long ago, she had decided the best way to avenge Lyanna was to save other girls from evil men. Why should Daenerys be an exception, when she was not at fault for her brother’s sins? When she was just as helpless as Lyanna had been when Rhaegar captured her, as helpless as Cersei had been when she could not save Lyanna, and when she was then sold off to Robert like a broodmare? 

“I must relieve myself to the call of nature” Daenerys announced, and ran from her chair back to Ilyrio’s manse. As if possessed by a supernatural force and unable to control her own body—or truly, Jorah’s body—Cersei stood up. “I’ll get her and bring her back,” she told the other guests. Melisandre turned towards her, red eyes brimming with mischief.  _ What is she hoping will happen? _

Cersei found her on the balcony, silver hair and pink silk gown blowing in the wind. Daenerys turned around and smiled sadly. “Ser Jorah. I presume you've come to retrieve me.”

Cersei stepped towards her. “I’m not in a rush to get you back to all those dangerous men.” Daenerys lifted her eyebrows incredulously. “And you’re not just another dangerous man?” Cersei had almost forgotten she appeared as Jorah to Danerys. “Less so than your brother and than Drogo.” Daenerys sighed. “Drogo... you know, if he holds me without hurting me, he’ll be the first who ever did. But I know he will. Like all men hurt girls. Would that I could fly away on a dragon’s back, or escape my wedding night like Queen Cersei did….but I’m not sure why I’m telling you this. There’s something about your eyes I trust, although no man is worth trust.” Cersei’s heartbeat quickened. “Queen Cersei was abducted and probably killed. Not a fate you should envy.” “That’s what people say,” Daenerys insisted, “but I think she escaped. I don’t know why, I just feel it in my bones. No woman would want to marry a man who had loved another, especially when she was beautiful enough to have any other man she wanted. Or so people say, since I, of course, never saw her,” Cersei worked hard to stifle a laugh.  _ You are looking at her now, fool _ . “Maybe she didn’t want any man. Now, let me take you back to the feast. I’ll make sure you’re safe there.”

“Promise?” Daenerys asked, grasping one of Cersei’s hands.

Her heart stopped.  _ Promise me, Cersei.  _ She grasped the small hand back. “I promise.” And this time, Cersei would make sure the girl she made a promise to would live to see her follow through.

*****************************************************************************************************

“Why is Ser Jorah here?” Viserys had sneered when opening his door to Cersei and Melisandre. “I was just escorting the Lady Melisandre to make sure no Dothraki intercepted her on her way over. Have a good night.” “Why don't you go play with my sister? I saw the way you ogled her for the entire feast. She’ll need some practice before riding the great Khal.” Viserys laughed coldly, and Cersei had to channel every ounce of strength within her to not strangle him that instant. After the feast, when Cersei had asked Melisandre if they could spare Daenerys, she was surprised to see the red woman smile and kiss her in return. “Didn’t you join me on this voyage to slay them both?” Cersei asked, puzzled. Her glamour was off, as were all her clothes; but Melisandre insisted on keeping her own robe on no matter how hard Cersei tugged at it, and held it tightly around her stomach. “I had to accompany you to make sure you’d see the light, as I knew you would. Daenerys is Azor Ahai, born amidst salt and smoke. In a world governed by foolish, cruel men, she is our only hope. Robert Baratheon is weak, as will be any man who follows. So no man must follow him.” She slipped her fingers into Cersei. “We will counsel her, we will train her, and one day…” she whispered into Cersei’s ear before biting it, “we will crown her. We can give her a chance at what Lyanna was denied: the right to live and to be freed from men’s shackles. You escaped Robert, I escaped...many horrors, but Daenerys cannot escape unless we free her.” 

Viserys shut the door, and Cersei waited outside. She heard the murmuring of her lover’s deep voice, and Viserys’ highly-pitched obnoxious voice, then a silence that seemed endless. Suddenly, she heard a scream, and just as Melisandre had predicted, Viserys opened the door, trying to bolt out of it. With Mormont’s massive strength, Cersei pushed him back into the room and pinned him to the floor before looking and up and seeing…. _ what in the seven hells??????? _ Melisandre lay on Viserys’ bed with her legs spread open, her stomach inflated like that of a woman about to give birth. As she moaned and threw her head back, whatever was inside her stomach twisted around and suddenly, a pair of smoky black flingers crept out from inside her. Cersei continued to pin Viserys to the floor, but herself wanted to run away. Melisandre lifted her head, looked Cersei in the eyes and winked, and then threw her head back again, the...shadow...demon...whatever it was expelling itself from her and plunging a dagger also made of shadow into Viserys’ chest before dissolving into nothing. Melisandre lay supine on the bed and Viserys lay dead in Cersei’s arms, no blood trickling from the would that slayed him. 

“Melisandre! What is going on?” Panting, Melisandre looked up at her again. “Remember on the boat, when I said I could carry death inside me with the help of our...instrument? Our child had a short life, alas, but a useful one.” She appeared to be in no pain, and gracefully stepped off the bed as if nothing had happened. “Leave him. Now we take Daenerys.” As Cersei released the dead prince’s body, Melisandre slinked over and kissed Cersei. Cersei knew most would be afraid of Melisandre after what she’d just witnessed, but she was not most people, and stroked Melisandre’s ass. Melisandre playfully swatted her hand away. “There will be plenty of time for that on the boat back to Volantis. We must take the princess before the dawn. Now!”

They slowly tiptoed down the hallway to the door they’d seen so many times in Melisandre’s flames while observing her. As it opened, Daenerys stirred from her sleep, “Viserys,” she said, expecting another night of his torment. When she opened her eyes to see Jorah and Melisandre, she began to scream before Cersei clasped her large Mormont hand over Daenerys' mouth. “Where is my brother?” she cried out, her voice muffled through Cersei’s glamoured hand. “What did you do to him, witch?” she asked, pointing at Melisandre before shifting her gaze to Cersei. “And you, I trusted you.You said you were not a dangerous man.” Keeping one hand over Daenerys' mouth as Melisandre stood to the side of the bed, Cersei prepared to take off Mormont’s necklace with the other. “I am no man.” She ripped the necklace off. As Melisandre threw its matching bracelet from her own wrist to the floor, Cersei’s body took her true form. “I am Cersei of House Lannister. A lioness of the Rock, trueborn daughter of Tywin Lannister, escaped queen of the seven kingdoms. And as for your brother:  _ valar morghulis _ .” “All men must die,” Daenerys repeated back, her mouth beginning to form a slight smile. 

*****************************************************************************************************

As Daenerys stood at the front of the ship’s bow, Cersei held Melisandre’s body tightly to her from behind. Melisandre craned her head back to kiss Cersei’s neck and tickle her ear with her tongue, which made Cersei sigh. Daenerys turned around to look at them. The moonlight caught her eye as she smiled at her rescuers, and Cersei could not help but think of the girl who had stood on the same spot on a similar boat after escaping her own wedding night thirteen years ago, filled with rage and determination. That girl had been so young, so foolish in thinking she knew what it meant to deliver justice. Seeing Daenerys smile while Melisandre nuzzled her neck—that was just, not murdering a young girl full of dreams and potential.  _ Like Lyanna had been. _ “Tell me about the manse in Volantis,” Daenerys asked. “You said there are other women there?” “Yes,” Cersei replied. “There are women to protect you, and when you enter the house, it has a grand red door.” 

The stars glimmered as brightly as they had at Harrenhal on the night she and Lyanna had howled at the moon together. Lyanna had taught her the names of the stars overhead, and Cersei pointed them out to Melisandre as she continued to hold her, letting the wind blow her long blonde hair into her face instead of binding it or reaching for her sword to hack it off like she normally would. The sparkling stars had always reminded her of Lyanna’s eyes, but now also of Melisandre’s. 

Yes, she would always miss Lyanna, but as Ashara had said on their voyage so long ago, the best way to honor her was not by living for the dead but by finding happiness in a world that had denied it to Lyanna and to all the other silenced girls with stolen futures. Three once-silenced girls were here now, with their futures ahead of them. The princess who had never known a home or true companionship, the once-powerless girl sold into slavery who had grown into the formidable sorceress in Cersei’s arms, and the pampered girl sold into marriage who had grown into a fierce warrior. The three women stood together, surrounded by the sea and the stars. 

**EPILOGUE: “What it is I do to you, to keep you warm: being a woman”**

So, here’s the thing: I know how this story ends but don’t actually feel like writing it as a narrative. Just knowing how it ends and the direction the characters go in is satisfying enough for me and I hope it will be for you as well:

After escaping with Daenerys, Cersei and Melisandre take her back to Volantis, where she is raised and protected among the Sisterhood and grows into a compassionate, intelligent, powerful young woman being mentored and taught how to be a queen. At the same time, Cersei and Melisandre settle into basically married wife life and it’s a beautiful and very fiery/sexually passionate and aggressive love. A few years later Cersei gets a raven from Jaime, with whom she’s secretly been in touch this whole time, telling her that Tywin has died, which leaves her as heir to Casterly Rock because he cannot inherit it as a member of the Kingsguard and because in this AU Tyrion died with Joanna at childbirth (we love to see it!). Now that Tywin is dead, she has no reason to be in hiding, as he was the only person pursuing her; Robert is not angry at Cersei for leaving, given that he didn't love her to begin with. Cersei is torn between taking her place as Lady of Casterly Rock and continuing to lead the Sisterhood in Volantis, but seeing in Melisandre’s flames that Robert is about to die with no trueborn heirs, only bastards, the opportunity is ripe to return to Westeros, stage an uprising that will make Daenerys queen, and take her place both as Queen’s Hand, Lady of Casterly Rock, and Warden of the West, with Melisandre by her side. So they leave, with Rohanne, Ashara, and Laurel continining the Sisterhood’s work in Volantis along with new recruits. Somehow Cersei and Melisandre’s plan works (I don’t know the details of how it would which is partially why I don’t feel like writing it out as a narrative), and they and Daenerys rule the Seven Kingdoms together as a matriarchal force, creating subsets of the Sisterhood Without Banners all across the world to root out male violence against women. Cersei and Melisandre live together as a fierce futch/femme goddess pairing with their honorary daughter Dany (who will marry Sansa Stark; one of this regime’s first motions is to make same-sex marriage legal under R’hllorian rule. And they can produce heirs because this is my AU). Lesbian bliss! The end!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title chapters from the following sources: Lady Gaga/Marry The Night (chapters 1 and 4), The 1933 movie Queen Christina (chapter 3), which is also an aesthetic inspiration for Cersei’s warrior queen vibe in Volantis, Fiona Apple/Under The Table (chapter 5) Weyes Blood/Andromeda (chapter 6) and Something to Believe (chapter 8), Joanna Newsom/Only Skin (chapter 7 and epilogue)


End file.
